


The Word on the Street

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [253]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Everybody Knows Except Them, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 15:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18449594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: “Bruce is not my sugar daddy!”The fact that Clark had to say it all was ridiculous; that the words turned his face red, even more so.





	The Word on the Street

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: [This](https://batboyshit.tumblr.com/post/182917446537/tony-im-in-target-do-you-need-anything-peter-oh).

“Bruce is not my sugar daddy!”

The fact that Clark had to say it all was ridiculous; that the words turned his face red, even more so.

Hal sat back from the monitors, his hands folded nonchalantly behind his head. “I’m not saying I have a dog in this fight. I’m just telling you the word on the street.”

“Well,” Clark said, ruffling his cape more than was technically necessary, “they’re wrong.”

“He bought you a condo, Clark.”

“My lease was up.”

Hal squinted up at him. “I hear he furnished it, too.”

“I guess, technically, I mean, he--”

“And a car. Some pretty sweet wheels?”

“An old one of his. He said he didn’t need it anymore.”

“I don’t think a two-year old Jag refitted with the latest Wayne Tech counts as old.”

“I mean,” Clark said lamely, “it’s not like I drive it a lot.”

Hal laughed. Covered his eyes with his hand and laughed again. “Of course you don’t!” he said. “You can fucking fly!”

“I don’t”--Clark could feel himself tumbling into a full-body fluster--“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal.”

“Oh, yes you do.” Hal was grinning at him now, full-on pool shark, the same expression he wore when he was holding a full house against a table with no more than two pair. “You wouldn’t be blushing like a bride if you didn’t.”

Clark swallowed. “We’re just friends, Hal. Honest. That’s all.”

“How many friends do you have that like to spend money making sure that you and yours live a comfortable--some might say luxurious--life, hmm?”

“You and yours--?”

Hal tipped his head. “Um, didn’t he buy your mom a house, too?”

“No,” Clark said without thinking, “he bought the bank that foreclosed on it.” As soon as he said it, he saw it, both in his mind’s eye and in Hal’s sunny leer. “Ah, _geez_.”

“Exactly!” Hal said. “Exactly. Hence the general consensus that you’re a kept man.”

A kept--?

“Hey,” Clark said, already halfway out the door, his brain already in Gotham, “I’ve got to, um--”

Two shakes and he was in space, zooming down towards the ground, the Watchtower growing tiny behind him, and still, somehow, damn his ears, he could hear Hal up there, cracking his knuckles and chuckling:

“Yeah, you go get him, Clark. Because my friend, he’s already got you."

 

  
*****

Bruce tapped the console again and waited semi-patiently for a response. Nothing.

“Damn it,” he said under his breath. “Damn you, come on.”

Another poke, another tap, and there was nothing: no spark or a tremor; the nanonet laid lame on his workbench didn’t so much as twitch.

“Ugh,” he groaned, shoving the whole mess away and burying his tired face in his hands. “Goddamn you. What good are you if you won’t fucking work?”

“Is this a bad time?”

Bruce’s head snapped up. “What the hell?”

“It’s just me.” Clark edged out of the shadows, his face cut seriously sheepish. “Sorry. I figured you were down here. Nobody answered the front door.”

“So you thought you’d just stroll in?” There was more gravel in his voice than he wanted, but hell, Clark kind of deserved it. “Do I want to know how you got past my security systems?”

Clark grinned, a nervous, lopsided thing that Bruce kind of liked. “Of course you do,” Kent said, “but can we talk about that later? There’s, uh. There’s something I need to ask you.”

If it were anyone else, Bruce thought, Hal or Barry or even Diana, there would be no discussion, there’d be only ejection, short and sharp and swift. Even his boys weren’t allowed to wander around down here with express written permission. But god help him, the rules were different with Clark; they always had been, and not just because he was pretty. But that sure as hell didn’t hurt. Those eyes alone, not to mention the broad chest and big, delicate hands. Christ. The contrast they made with the weird vulnerability he saw in Clark, the tremor of something soft and easily bruised. What was it about the world’s strongest, er, being that made Bruce want to wrap his arms around him, made him want to bite gently at Clark’s lips and stroke the firm curve of his thigh and say things that were silly and intimately verbose?

 _It’s ok_ , he wanted to say, wanted to whisper in Clark’s ear. _It’s ok, I’ve got you. You’re mine_.

But what he said was, brusque:

“All right. What?”

Clark’s cheeks went beet and his hands twisted at his sides. He looked like he’d just swallowed a bee. “Bruce, uh, do you...are you?” He stumbled, cleared his throat. “Um. Do you see yourself as my sugar daddy?”

Bruce’s blood went caramel. “Do I _what_?”

**Author's Note:**

> Legit the only reason to watch Batman vs. Superman and Justice League is the way Bruce hate-pines (and then straight up pines) for Clark. It's OUTSTANDING.


End file.
